


love language

by luxizi



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Morning Kisses, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxizi/pseuds/luxizi
Summary: It’s the way his coffee order is always for two. It’s the “have you eaten yet?,” the “can you read this essay over for me?,” and the “I saw this while I was out and got it for you.” It’s the movie nights and study days. It’s the way Yukhei wakes up every morning.In love with Taeyong.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 29
Kudos: 135





	love language

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't like morning kisses then, uh, don't read I guess. Inspired by Luyong being Luyong. Thank you SuperM.
> 
> Not beta'd.
> 
> Now available in Vietnamese! https://www.wattpad.com/990478330-trans-luyong-love-language-love-languag

Yukhei used to be a morning person.

Now, he stays curled up in bed as long as possible. Sometimes he’s fully awake, but he doesn’t get up until his roommate waddles into his room. 

“Xuxi,” Taeyong singsongs, voice hoarse from just waking up himself. “Xuxi, get up.”

Except Yukhei can never get up, because Taeyong always lies on top of him, burying his face into Yukhei’s sheets and subsequently, the side of Yukhei’s torso or sometimes even his chest.

It’s Yukhei’s favourite part of waking up.

Taeyong makes these cute noises, muffled in Yukhei’s sheets. Yukhei used to just lie there, and enjoy, but now he puts a tentative arm over Taeyong’s back. It’s not quite heavy enough for him to hold him there, to prevent him from getting up out of Yukhei’s bed, but enough to feel the warmth of Taeyong’s skin radiating from under his thin baggy t-shirt.

“Let’s get up,” Taeyong sighs and the sound goes straight to Yukhei’s spine, tingling. Taeyong himself makes no move to get up.

Yukhei giggles quietly, because that’s what Taeyong always reduces him to. Yukhei’s other hand finds itself in Taeyong’s hair, cupping the back of his head and running through the soft locks with his fingers. He didn’t mean to, but he really is half asleep and he’d been wanting to for so long… Taeyong hums and Yukhei is lucky enough that the motion of his fingers doesn’t stutter like his heart does. He hopes his sheets act as somewhat of a barrier to prevent Taeyong from hearing how erratically it beats.

Summoning the best of his courage, Yukhei speaks up. “Five more minutes?” He’d meant to sound more certain, more set on staying here like this. Instead it comes out fast and hushed, like he’s on his last breath and the only thing keeping him alive is the pressure of Taeyong’s body on his.

Taeyong hums again. “Five more minutes.” He snuggles closer.  
  
  
  
  


“Still up?” Yukhei comes home late from a mixer put on by his department, exhausted. While he didn’t tend to talk as much as the other Language and Linguistics students or professors, he was very good at being  _ present _ at these events. Listening, acknowledging, introducing himself, and getting his name out there. Networking was a whole job in and of itself and it was absolutely draining.

Yukhei sees Taeyong tucked into the corner of their living room, scrunched up in what has to be an uncomfortable position on the leather monstrosity that came with the place when they moved in, his laptop the only source of light in the room. Yukhei knows what Taeyong’s like when he gets sucked into his schoolwork, and this was no exception. He’s got one of his sleep shirts on—a grey tank top—and sweatshorts. Yukhei takes a moment, maybe too long of a moment, to admire his legs. He wonders if he could take the entirety of Taeyong’s thigh in one hand, if Taeyong would like it—

“Hm?” Taeyong’s head perks up, like he’s only just noticed someone walked through the door, shut it, and hadn’t taken a too long of a moment to stare. “Oh, yeah. Assignment. I made food if you’re still hungry.”

Yukhei beelines to the kitchen because he  _ is _ hungry, he’s always hungry, and Taeyong always makes extra for him. He turns on the stove light and eats while hovering over the counter because he’s too impatient to sit properly anywhere. He rinses out the Tupperware container and leaves it in the sink to deal with when it’s not past midnight.

He sits on the other side of the couch, watching Taeyong stare at the wall of words on his screen. “Is it hard?” he asks.

Taeyongs sighs. “I don’t like what I’ve done but I don’t know exactly what it is I don’t like about it. It’s not all bad but it's… not right.”

“How long have you been staring at it for?”

Taeyong blinks and finally looks at Yukhei, shrugging. “I have no idea. Probably too long.”

Yukhei reaches out, wrapping his hand around Taeyong’s bare ankle, lightly tugging on it. Yukhei tries not to think about how small it is in his palm. Taeyong tilts his head, bottom lip pursing out in question, an almost exact replica of the emoji he uses the most when he texts Yukhei.

Yukhei tugs harder, untangling Taeyong’s legs and forcing him to extend his legs. Taeyong gasps when his joints pop and Yukhei laughs at him.

“You need to stretch.”

Taeyong opens his mouth like he’s about to protest but Yukhei shifts his hand, his thumb gently brushing over the protruding bone of Taeyong’s ankle. Taeyong closes his mouth, looks from Yukhei’s hand to Yukhei, and complies.

They get up and Yukhei helps him stretch his arms, straighten out his torso, lose the tension in his legs. His touch is feathery light at first—a question—and Taeyong answers yes with his own hand that presses on top of Yukhei’s to make his grip firmer.

Yukhei gently squeezes the back of Taeyong’s neck when they’re done. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Taeyong hums and pats Yukhei’s chest. “I won’t.” He’ll still come into Yukhei’s room to wake him up, after all.

With all that they leave unsaid, Yukhei wonders just how much he’d have to do to tell his roommate he’s in love with him.  
  
  
  
  


It’s one of those early morning days, where Yukhei has a class at 8am and finds himself heading to the library after, yawning despite getting enough sleep the night before. He stops at the coffee shop on the way, ordering a coffee for himself and a sugary caffeine concoction for Taeyong.

He finds him at a table, books scattered, staring at his laptop like he was staring at nothing at all. Yukhei laughs as he sits across from him, placing the coffee in front of him.

“Thank you.” Taeyong sighs, taking a sip. “How was class?”

Yukhei shrugs, setting up his own laptop on the table. Thinking about the class he just had only makes him feel more exhausted. “Nothing like doing lambda notation in the morning.” 

“Ew,” Taeyong scrunches his nose up. “Just hearing that makes my head dizzy.” Taeyong had once asked Yukhei to teach him and it had taken all but an afternoon for Taeyong to give up and declare Yukhei ‘the smartest person in the world’ for being able to do it. To be fair, Taeyong didn’t have the linguistic background Yukhei did, but it was still a compliment that bloomed warmly in Yukhei’s chest whenever he thought of it. 

“Anyways Mr. Smart guy, do you think you could read this over for me? I’ve written myself into a hole and I don’t know if what I said makes sense or not.” Taeyong turns his laptop towards Yukhei and he pulls it over to him without question. Just like how there are some things Taeyong doesn’t understand about his studies, there are things Yukhei doesn’t really get about Taeyong’s. It seems like he’s always writing essays about a plethora of things—philosophy, music, literature, film, current events, pop culture—everything. If you asked Yukhei what  _ exactly _ it was that Taeyong studied, he wouldn’t be able to say with certainty, only that it was definitely more than one thing and it always had him swamped with work more than anyone else Yukhei knew.

Even if he doesn’t understand the subjects of the essays sometimes, Yukhei loves the way Taeyong writes. He’s read everything Taeyong’s given to him with equal enthusiasm (and adoration). 

“This part I’m not really following,” Yukhei highlights a paragraph once he’s read the full thing over. He tells Taeyong what exactly doesn’t make sense and Taeyong nods, listening to Yukhei’s feedback intently, biting his thumb at the same time. Yukhei thinks it’s cute.

“Okay, okay, I think I know where I can go next with this,” Taeyong nods, taking his laptop back. “Thank you.”

_ Anything for you. _ Yukhei smiles and takes a sip of his coffee.

  
  
  
  
  


Yukhei’s favourite night is movie night. It happens much less often than he’d like it to, but he’s grateful for it all the same. He and Taeyong curl up on opposite ends of the couch, legs entangled because there’s definitely not enough room for the two of them.

For whatever reason, Yukhei still hasn’t seen Moana even though it’s been out for  _ years _ and Taeyong insists they watch it. Yukhei likes it, how could he not? That is until Moana’s Grandma comes to her as a stingray and there’s emotional singing and suddenly Yukhei’s eyes are watering and he knows if he closes them the tears will fall out—so he ends up staring at the TV, wide-eyed and desperate not to cry.

“Xuxi?” Yukhei turns and sees Taeyong sitting up, brows furrowed. “Are you—are you crying?”

“No,” Yukhei’s voice cracks. He decides to be truthful. “Not yet.”

“Oh, Xuxi,” Taeyong leans over, grabbing Yukhei’s hand in his. He doesn’t say anything else, just turns back to watch the movie.

Yukhei’s tears do fall eventually, when Moana returns Te Fiti’s heart, and he holds Taeyong’s hand like it’s a lifeline. Taeyong doesn’t laugh or coo at him, but rubs his thumb in gentle circles on the back of Yukhei’s hand. Another tear falls.

  
  
  
  
  


Yukhei comes back from the winter holidays late at night, later than was scheduled. He’d told Taeyong to just go to bed and not wait for him. Yukhei lugs his suitcase into his room, turns the light on and has to rub at his eyes to make sure he’s seeing things right.

Taeyong lies in his bed curled up sleeping, half under the covers. He’s wearing one of Yukhei’s sweaters. It’s so overwhelming Yukhei misses the light switch twice, turning the light back off and practically stumbling over to his bed.

He climbs in, and the rustling wakes Taeyong up. He stretches out like a cat, making tiny noises, and when he sees Yukhei next to him, he smiles. “You’re back.”

“You’re in my bed.” Yukhei wants to pull him close, wants to press delicate lips on soft skin.

Taeyong huffs, like he’s laughing at himself. “I missed you.”

Yukhei smiles, because he can’t think of anything else to do. All he sees is Taeyong, sleepy, pouty Taeyong who missed him so much over a two-week break he wore his clothes and accidentally fell asleep in his bed while waiting for him.

“You left it unmade, and I was antsy waiting so I made it for you and I just—fell asleep. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Taeyong looks like he’s about to flee, like maybe he thinks he’s done something wrong. Yukhei shakes his head, smile never fading and simply says, “I missed you too.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Xuxi!” Taeyong practically leaps into their apartment, startling Yukhei from eating his lunch at the kitchen counter. “Look what I got for you!”

“Huh, me?” Yukhei almost chokes when he swallows. “Why?”

“Because I saw it and I thought of you,” Taeyong shrugs, holding a bag out, handles apart so Yukhei can reach in.

Yukhei pulls out a sweater, probably the softest one he’s ever touched, white with a design on the front that looks like cartoon paint splatters. He feels like his breath has been knocked out of him. “Why?” He asks again.

“Because I wanted to,” Taeyong looks up at him with his big eyes and big smile and has the audacity to  _ giggle _ when Yukhei already feels like he can’t breathe. “And because I kind of stole your other one. Do you like it?”

“I…” Yukhei clutches the sweater in his hands, kneads it between his fingers.  _ I love you _ , he wants to say, so, so badly.  _ I love you. _ “I love it,” He croaks.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Yukhei has been awake for hours before Taeyong finally waddles into his room, calling his name. He throws himself onto Yukhei and lands higher than usual, but he doesn’t seem phased—he tucks his nose into Yukhei’s neck instead.

Yukhei feels too weak to even hold him like he always does. His throat is strained as he looks to the side, at his wall, and pretends that he’s okay.

Taeyong raises his head. “Xuxi?” Yukhei feels a gentle prodding behind his ear. “Xuxi, are you okay?”

Yukhei nods, but it’s hard to look Taeyong in the eye. If he does, it might all come spilling out. Yukhei doesn’t know how much longer he can hold it in.

“Xuxi, what’s wrong?” Taeyong tilts his head, trying to get Yukhei to look at him. 

Yukhei takes Taeyong’s hand, pushes the sheets down slightly and holds Taeyong’s hand on his bare chest, where the beating of his heart vibrates through his skin.

Taeyong stares at his own hand. Yukhei wants to say something,  _ anything _ , but nothing comes out. Instead, he lifts his head off of his pillow and presses his cheek to Taeyong’s. He closes his eyes, relishing in the warmth, in the way he can feel Taeyong’s breath rustle his hair ever so slightly. He starts to pull away, like maybe he’s gone a step too far, but to his surprise, Taeyong follows him. Yukhei lies his head back down on his pillow, and Taeyong starts to brush his nose along Yukhei’s cheekbone.

He feels Taeyong’s hand slip away from his chest and for a split second, Yukhei is terrified he’s about to pull away. Taeyong’s hand slides upwards, caressing the side of Yukhei’s neck, thumb brushing over his Adam’s apple as Taeyong hovers at the corner of Yukhei’s mouth.

Yukhei swallows. “Please,” he gasps, the only word he manages to muster. “Please.”

Taeyong complies.

It’s slow. Or maybe time just stops, Yukhei can’t tell. One, long kiss turns into two, turns into three, turns into four, five, six—Taeyong grips at Yukhei’s jaw and Yukhei’s fingers make a home in Taeyong’s already messy hair.

They break apart for air and Taeyong collapses and tucks his nose into Yukhei’s neck once more.

Yukhei stares up at the ceiling, inhales, exhales, catches his breath. 

“We should get up,” Taeyong murmurs, mouthing his lips on Yukhei’s skin. He sucks on it gently and Yukhei startles, quickly melting into giggles. 

His arms circle around Taeyong’s waist and Yukhei rolls them over, tangling Taeyong in his sheets and pinning him below. He trails his nose along Taeyong’s jawline and nibbles below his ear. “Five more minutes?”

Taeyong’s hand is in Yukhei’s hair, guiding him back to his mouth. “Five more minutes,” he breathes, before sealing their lips once more.


End file.
